Some of you may recall, with some fondness I hope, our last report about Middle-Eastern dolphins. Well, this is a photo of a happy dolphin:
But before we go on to explain the happy dolphin, we should discuss happiness and confusion. Happiness. Hmmmm…Happiness is….
**Parlor ice cream on a sunny day
**Lunch on a farm just outside the city of Florence
**Going with a young child to see an animated movie and hearing them laugh in wonder
**A kiss (big and sloppy! Stop being so shy!) from someone who loves you
**Listening to Idan Reichel in the car while driving on the freeway
**Getting one’s wife pregnant the old fashioned way
That’s a really happy dolphin, isn’t it?
Well, while you ponder why that dolphin is happy, do you notice anything about my list above?
That’s right! Yigal Amir can’t do any of these things.
Nope, that insane motherf***ing murdering sloth cannot go to Florence, or Jerusalem for that matter. He can’t enjoy ice cream at an ice cream parlor, take his nieces and nephews to the movies, drive around in an automobile, or even a horse and buggy, and, most important, he cannot kiss or be kissed by anybody he loves and he can’t get his wife pregnant…the old fashioned way.
The old fashioned way. But there’s a new way; a modern way.
You see, Amir has just been granted official permission to masturbate into a cup that will then be handed to his wife so that she may use modern technology to conceive. Now you may recall that Amir has been feeling quite amorous for a while now, but alas, he has not been able to find relief. Of course, his surreptitious marriage to the Larissa Trimbobler woman was sanctioned for some unfathomable reason, but that didn’t mean the system allowed conjugal visits. It didn’t.
But Yigal Amir, who is alive even while a murdered Rabin lies in his grave, has the Israeli courts as an available option. Unfortunately, whereas the former law student saw fit to resolve his last big problem by shooting a great and good man in the back, when the issue is more immediate to his personal concerns, he has no difficulty attempting to resolve the issue through Israel’s superb judicial system.
Apparently the good folks guarding him felt that his appeals to the courts would work or at least were justified. So, for some inexplicable reason, Amir will be allowed to attempt to fulfill his human destiny even if he cut off Rabin and Israel’s destiny. So he will be permitted to pass sperm samples to his wife. The happy couple (Trimbobler, by the way, is a divorcee with 4 children) obviously could be happier, but not much happier than this.
Now in order for the lovely couple to achieve their goal, Amir is going to have to visualize his wife or another person who may be of interest, masturbate and deposit his semen into a sterile cup. The cup and its contents will then be transported to a nearby fertility clinic where an ovulating Ms. Trimbobler will be waiting on a hospital bed, supine, along with a doctor holding a turkey baster. The catch is that, assuming Ms. Trimbobler is still able to have children and that Amir ain’t shootin’ blanks, the semen sample needs to arrive at the hospital (to be washed and prepped for the turkey baster insertion and squeeze) in a timely fashion. The longer it takes, the lower the odds of success. What can I say, sperm get tired.
But this gave me an idea.
Can’t a guard, um, participate in this process? I mean, one sterile sperm cup looks like another. N’est ce pas?
Think of the possibilities! Heck, the guard could decide that the absence of Idan Reichel music in the car compels him to drive far more slowly toward Larissa’s impatient thighs and perhaps even pull over for an ice cream at an ice cream parlor. Or the guard could decide that his spit, following the smoking of a cigarette without a filter, will go unnoticed when blended with Amir’s semen. Are there laws against messing with a murderer’s sperm as it heads over to the wife to impregnate her? I bet you there aren’t any on the books.
Before I continue with that line of thought, I think it’s important to share another story, this one being a love story between a person and a big fish. This love story is also consummated, which does warm our hearts far more than WHEN MURDERERS GET TO IMPREGNATE THEIR WIVES. It seems that an English woman couldn’t get enough of Eilat…
Dressed in a white dress, a veil and pink flowers in her hair, Sharon Tendler got down on one knee on the dock and gave Cindy a kiss. And a piece of herring. “It’s not a perverted thing. I do love this dolphin. He’s the love of my life,” she said Saturday, upon her return to London.
Tendler, who said she imports clothes and promotes rock bands in England, has visited Israel several times a year since first meeting the dolphin. When asked in the past if she had a boyfriend, she would always reply, “No. I’m going to end up with Cindy.”
That’s right, Sharon married Cindy, who appears to be male despite the name.
That’s one happy dolphin.
And here is where it all comes together. Here’s my dream; my vision:
That dolphin is happy, but not just because of the extra herring it got on the day of the nuptials, or the water play that bore no resemblance to a proper marriage consummation. Nope, the dolphin is really happy because there’s this guy in a prison-guard uniform who shows up regularly at the dock with two strange-looking sealed cups in his hands.
Yup, this guard – let’s call him Shmulik – always taps one cup fondly on its cover and puts it back in his truck. He then takes the other cup, the one with the sticker with marks that look like â€œAMIRâ€ to the illiterate but sweet and HAPPY dolphin, removes the sticker and attaches it to the other cup in the truck. He then hands the first cup to the dolphin fertility specialist who works there. The specialist told Shmulik once that human sperm cannot impregnate a dolphin, despite the animal being a mammal. This information only made the mirthful guard more cheerful. “Mix it good,” said the laughing guard to the specialist, “Maybe the baby dolphin will go to law school.” The guard usually turns to Cindy and pulls out some extra fish that he throws joyously into the water where Cindy eats it with relish. But, oddly, the happy guard can never stay around long to play with Cindy or to watch as the fertility specialist drops a few drops from the newly arrived cup into Cindy’s (much larger) sperm container.
Nope, Shmulik never stays long. He seems to be in a hurry. There’s a woman called Larissa waiting for him.